In the twilight hours, when silence dances on the edge of dreams, we whisper amongst shadows; thoughts with the ember warmth of a lost letter.

Fingers caress the moments, tracing invisible letters on parched skin; an ode sung without sound, wet with longing and jeweled with moonlight.

The vestiges of thoughts curl into spirals, like smoke from the cigarette of a poet discarded along the cobblestone road.

Every color a heartbeat; crimson for the serene lover, cerulean for the absent sky, ochre capturing the sun’s undying yearning.

Listen: the universe holds secrets deep in its spiraled cadences, call us, weave, interlace breaths among stardust memories.

If love is law, then let us break the chains and dance, twinkle to the beats of fractured stanzas; drink from the cascade of passion’s raging river.

Join me browsing the dreams listed to the right: Echoes of the Forgotten | Whispers in Shadows